


Nightlights

by 1500birds



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Drama, F/F, Sex, Slow To Update, Slurs, Strippers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-06
Updated: 2014-09-16
Packaged: 2018-01-23 17:26:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 10,461
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1573802
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/1500birds/pseuds/1500birds
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kanaya doesn't actually want to go out, but it's finally the end of the first two week of college and her roommate doesn't plan on letting her stay in anyways.</p><p>She finds herself at a bar watching a beautiful girl dance and take her clothes off.</p><p>The next day she finds herself face-to-face with said stripper on her college campus.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. So Cliche, It's Ironic

**Author's Note:**

> Chapter rewritten instead of next chapter posted. sorry folks.

                “Come oooooooon, Fussyface! You can stand to have one night off!”

                Your Name is Kanaya Maryam and you just wish your roommate would shut up.

                “I already have two essays, one in French, and a 3D rendering of my dress design due after this weekend, and blowing a night away at some club isn’t-”

                “Blah blah blah, I don’t care! Just come!”

                You glare daggers at Vriska, who’s standing at the foot of your bed with that stupid smirk, and finally slam your laptop closed. “Fine. Who all is going?”

                “Terezi, Eridan, Feferi, Sollux, and Aradia.”

                “None of our siblings?”

                “Well, technically Damara, but she’s just getting us in because she works there.”

                Damara having to “get you in” is never a good sign. “Where is ‘there’?” you ask cautiously.

                “Some club that doesn’t card at the bar and has strippers.”

                “Strippers?”

                “Yeah, Damara is one of them.”

                You groan and fall back onto your mattress. “I think I’m just-”

                “You already said yes!” Vriska’s voice gets a hint of a whine in it. “It’s to celebrate the start of a new school year, Kanaya!”

                You’re quick to amend before that whine gets any stringer. “Okay, I’ll go, just make sure we’re back by eleven, okay?”

 

                Now it’s almost 8:30 and you’re just finishing up the half-hour drive from the university to the city. Vriska is babbling about how great a night out will be and you’re mentally rearranging your schedule to make room to work on your assignments.

                “I heard that they make a drink that can get you black-out drunk after only two shots!” Vriska says excitedly as you climb out of the car. For the occasion, she’s kept on her usual ratty jeans and band shirt, while you opted for a pair of black shorts with a matching tank top and a green scarf.

                “You’d best not puke in my car on the way home,” you warn, and she just laughs and grabs your wrist, dragging you down an alley. Damara is smoking by the back door and she lets you in, muttering something behind you just before the door shuts.

                The inside of the club is dark and hot and loud, and you’re herded to the bar before you can take anything in. Terezi immediately leaps towards you, and you have to step to one side to catch her in a hug. She went to a different college, since Skaia was an art school and she was studying law, but she somehow still found a way to live in the Skaia dorms.

                “Vriska got you to come!” she squeals happily.

                “I’m starting to wonder how she did so,” you say, raising your voice slightly to be heard over the music. You get a cackle in response and turn to speak to Vriska, only to find that she’s disappeared.

                It’s then that you notice the stage, just in time for a light to come on and a voice from the speakers announce that it was time for some “exotic entertainment.” You look away with a sigh and order a drink, “Something strong and sweet.”

                When you turn back, you’re greeted by the sight of one of the most beautiful people you’ve seen.

                The first thing that you notice is her hair- platinum blonde and short. She’s lean, but not skinny, and especially not lanky and gawky like you. Her button-up shirt fits her well, as does her shorts, which show off her long legs and you note the little tentacle monster tattoo on her leg.

The second thing is that she looks even more unhappy than you are. Her face remains neutral, but you can see the distaste in her eyes and it occurs to you that she probably hates everyone watching her dance for entertainment, including you.

                That doesn’t make you take your eyes off of her- no, what does is when she starts stripping, and the men at the foot of the stage begin calling out increasingly lewd comments that make your stomach turn. You glare at them, and when you look back at her you see the dancer’s lips twitch slightly, but other than that, she doesn’t react. She finishes unbuttoning her shirt but doesn’t take it off, instead getting on all fours and crawling seductively towards the rowdy men.

                (You’re beginning to wonder about the mental state of this girl, because she’s so sad and yet she saunters herself right up to stare threats in the face. Those men are dangerous, you can tell, and you can tell she knows that too.)

                She rises to her knees and turns, rotating her hips and sliding her shorts down tantalizingly slow. A man reaches out and grabs her behind, and the girl promptly slaps his hand and walks away from the edge of the stage. You realize she’s taunting them, these drunk and dangerous men, and it makes you uneasy. Leaning against the pole in the center of the stage, she keeps her hips forward as the shorts descend her thighs, and she’s so pale, you think, and someone pokes you in the face.

                “Fuckin’ hell Kan, tone down the gay,” Eridan says dryly as you pull your eyes away from the dancer to look at him.

                “Do you need something?” you ask, raising an eyebrow and taking a long sip of your drink.

                “Nah I’m just bored and you’re all alone.” He leans against the bar next to you, looking back at the stage to where the girl was finally, slowly removing her shirt. “Didn’t think you’d ever find a stripper interestin’.”

                “There’s just nothing else to do,” you lie. He doesn’t notice and instead scoffs and agrees.

                You wish you’d seen this girl somewhere else, where you could just talk to her. Perhaps at a bus station or a restaurant, awkwardly placed at the same table to conserve seats. But instead you’re in a badly lit bar with a buzz in your veins and she’s on a stage, letting a man tuck a twenty into her bra. You want to throw up, and you want to wrap your coat around her shoulders.

Eridan is talking, and is still talking about the exact same thing when the girl finally walks off the stage. You order something else, Vriska orders you something stronger, and you forget about the girl with those sad lavender eyes.

 

Sunlight glaring through the narrow hole in your curtains wakes you up shortly after noon. You let out a small whimper, seal the hole, and sit up. A minute of stumbling around gets you to the bathroom, and you dry swallow two painkillers before actually looking at yourself in the mirror.

                It’s been a while since you’ve really gotten drunk, and it shows. Your pixie cut is a wreck, and there are bags under your jade green eyes. You take your time in getting showered and cleaned up, and you exit the bathroom, you realize that Vriska is still in the heap of blankets she calls a bed, so you decide to go out to get some schoolwork done. You take your sketchbook out and doodle as you walk, as usual, with your laptop bag on your shoulder.

                When you look up and realize you had no idea where you were going, you notice the little tea stand you discovered on your first day at Skaia. It was referred to as the Meteor, and drifted all around campus being tended by a silent kid with long dreaded black hair. Another girl is approaching as you are, but she arrives first and you think she’s familiar.

                You wait patiently as she orders her coffee, black, and toys with her phone. You look at the ground, but then you’re looking at her ankle, and _you know that tattoo-_

                “Do you have a quarter?”

                “What?” You stare at her, at those beautiful lavender eyes, in shock and probably red.

                She gives you an odd look and then just repeats herself. “I’m out one quarter. Do you have one?”

                Your name is Kanaya Maryam, and you’re currently face-to-face with a very beautiful girl that you watched strip last night.

                Also, you don’t have a quarter.


	2. Now It's Just Awkward

                 The first thing that crosses your mind is _Oh, shit, she’s kind of short and even cuter up close,_ and the second was, _I should probably answer before she thinks I’m some freak_.

                Judging by the look on her face, she probably already thinks you’re weird.

                _Be smooth, Kanaya._

                “How about it’s just on me?” you say, sliding past the blonde and offering up you meal card. “I’ll have a chai tea, please.”

                The boy behind the stand nods and quickly hands you the drinks, one of which you hand to the pretty blonde.

                “Thanks,” she says, looking uncertain before quickly turning and walking away. You’re too busy looking at her in awe to realize that shit she’s leaving, but when you do, you stride quickly to catch up with her.

                “Have I met you before?” she asks with a mixture of irritation and suspicion, slowing her pace.

                “No, um, at least, not directly,” you stammer.

                “Okay…?” She stops and looks at you closely, expecting an answer.

                You look away and blush slightly. “Last night. My friend, she dragged me out to a club, and…”

                Realization dawns on the girl’s face for a moment, before it’s replaced by thinly veiled anger. “I’m not on duty.” She starts to walk away.

                You don’t know why you pursue her- she obviously wants nothing to do with you- but you’re hooked. “Wait, I know you’re not, I just wanted to talk to you!”

                “About what?” she retorts coolly.

                “I, um, what’s your name?” you muster out, and she just rolls her eyes at you and starts walking again. “Wait!”

                “Why won’t you just fuck off?” she snaps, glaring at you. You stop in your tracks and she keeps walking, probably glad to be rid of you.

                You’re confused about the ordeal, especially about why a stripper is at your college. The thought occurs to you to ask the guy at the Meteor, but when you turn, he’s gone. Instead you slouch under a tree and open up your laptop. You try to push the girl back out of your mind, so you can work on your dress design, but still she nags at the back of your focus, like a fish pulling at a hook. 

* * *

 

                “Kaaaaaaaanayaaaaaaaa... why’d you make me go party last night...” Vriska’s voice is long and whiny and makes you want to cut your own head off.

                “I didn’t,” you snap, unloading your laptop out of its bag. “You’re the one who dragged me out. Which reminds me: Fuck you.”

                “Where have you been all morning?” Still whiny. You wish you hadn’t needed to return to the dorm, but your laptop is dead and you left your charger in here.

                “Working on the homework you talking me into sipping last night. Which brings me back to my previous statement.”

                “Fuck me. I know.” Vriska struggles out of her covers and stumbles into the bathroom. “I’m getting a shower.”

                “Wait,” you say quickly, stopping the bathroom door before your roommate closes it. “Where are my keys?”

                “The bartender took ‘em after your fourth drink, lightweight.” The door closes.

                “Damnit,” you mutter, taking out your phone. You look through your contacts, trying to find someone to give you a ride out to the city. You quickly pick Karkat.

                “What?” he answers on the third ring, sounding clearly unhappy.

                “Hey, you drive Terezi into the city, right?”

                “She’s already there. I pick her up tonight. Why?”

                “Can you drop me off somewhere?”

                You hear him groan. “Fine.”

                “Thank you, Karkat,” you say earnestly, which gets you a grunt and then a dead phone line. 

* * *

 

                “Tonight” ends up being 10 o’clock, and you sigh when you realize you’re in for another late night. Karkat keeps the radio on, signaling he doesn’t want to talk, so you ride in his old station wagon in silence. When he drops you off in front of the club, it’s already past 10:45 because he got lost.

                “Stay safe,” he says gruffly, giving the club a suspicious look. “Aren’t you underage?”

                “Have a nice night, Karkat,” is all you say with a smile, and then you close the door. He’s gone by the time you’re stepping into the establishment.

                It’s just as dark as you remember, with the disgusting and volatile crowd that makes you keep to the sides and shadows. Fortunately, most of the attention is on the stage, where you recognize Damara dancing. When you finally get to the bar, you’ve managed to dodge getting doused with beer twice and gotten a rowdy catcall.

                “What do you want?” the bartender asks immediately. You’re the only one at the bar.

                “My keys, hopefully,” you say with a light chuckle.

                “What do they look like?” The lean man crouches down and tips a box forward.

                “For a Volkswagon, with a little spider and flower key chain,” you tell him, suppressing a yawn. “I don’t suppose you happen to have any coffee I can take with me?”

                The bartender smiles as he hands you the keys. “I do. Got a few minutes to wait?”

                You nod happily and slide onto the stool as the bartender gets a pot of coffee going in the coffeemaker under the bar. While you wait, you check your phone, and send a text to Vriska to keep the dorm unlocked.

                “You don’t really seem like the type to come to a place like this,” the bartender observes casually, watching you curiously.

                “My roommate dragged me out,” you admit. “I didn’t really know where we were going.”

                The bartender laughed. “So you got stuck here.”

                “Correct.” You smile and shrug.

                He chuckles and turns back to the coffee, starting to pour you a cup. Then he grabs a handful of sugars and creamers and sets them down before you with the cup. “Mix it up, girlie.”

                You’re pouring sugar into the coffee when you hear her.

                “I’m off now,” she says, and your head jerks up to see that blonde girl standing just outside of the employee door. She hasn't noticed you. “So I’m heading home.”

                “Do you have a ride?” the bartender asks, and you add another sugar as you listen.

                “I’m going to get a cab.”

                “I don’t want you to be going out there alone. You know there’s been a lot of nasty guys here tonight.”

                “I’ll be fine-”

                “What if one of them comes back? They’d hurt you if they even got irritated.”

                The girl opens her mouth to object again, and you take the chance to jump in. “I can take you home.”

                She turns and locks her eyes on you, and a flash of surprise crosses her face, but it’s replaced quickly by a look of reproach. The bartender also looks at you, his face showing happy surprise.

                “She’s a nice girl,” he says, looking back at the blonde. “Let her take you home.”

                “That’s not necessary,” she answers flatly.

                “Please. Just tonight, at least.”

                There’s a small pause, and then the blonde finally relents. “Fine.” Looking at you coldly, she adds, “Can we go now?”

                You nod quickly and finish stirring your coffee. The bartender mouths a “thank you” as he cleans up and you smile before leading the way out of the bar. The girl sticks to the wall as you did, and you keep a wary eye on the crowd. When you both get unto the cool night air, you breathe a sigh of relief.

                Fortunately, your car is still in the little parking lot just around the corner, and you open the door for your reluctant companion before getting in yourself.

                “So, may I know your name now?” you ask when you’re on the road.

                You swear a ghost of a smirk crosses her face. “Rose. And yours?”

                “Kanaya.”

                “…you wouldn't be Maryam, would you?”

                “That depends on why you ask.”

                “I've seen a certain Miss Kanaya Maryam’s work in various stages of completion around the art wing,” she says, and now you can definitely see a smirk out of the corner of your eye. “I also had the pleasure of looking through your portfolio.”

                “And did you enjoy my work?” you ask as means of confirming her suspicion.

                “I did. I enjoyed your dress entitled ‘Unrequited.’”

                You let out a small hum of appreciation. “Thank you. Are you also an artist?”

                “No,” she answers promptly, with a hint of smugness. “I’m a psychology major. My brother, however, is a photographer.”

                This time you just nod and keep your eyes on the road. She’s interesting, but it’s late and you don’t have the patience to deal with the snarky tone of her voice. Rose seems content in the silence, sitting with her eyes watching the city fade into country. It’s only until you’re close to getting on campus do you speak again.

                “What dorm do you reside in?” you ask as you drive through Skaia’s gates.

                “Beta,” comes the short answer.

                “Truly? I’m surprised I didn't encounter you previously.”

                “I’m not. I try to avoid highly frequented areas.”

                “Which building?” you say instead of retorting.

                “Two.”

                You pull into a parking space outside the dorm building. “Well, it’s-”

                Suddenly, Rose is leaning across the seat with a fierce look on her face and a finger jabbing into your chest. You feel heat rush to your cheeks, with embarrassment and of course there was the fact that she was practically on top of you.

                “Don’t you dare tell anyone, do you understand?”

                “Tell anyone what?” you retort dryly. “That you practically tackled me in my own car? Really, ‘thank you’ would've sufficed. Who taught you manners?”

                She falters for a moment, but then that angry expression is back, which looks strange on her petite face. “If I hear anyone talking about how we met, or what you saw, I will make you regret it, understand?”

                “I speak English, thanks.” Your irritation has overridden you attraction to her. “Why are you doing it, if you’re not proud of it?”

                “You don’t know anything about me,” Rose hisses.

                “Yes, well, you make sure that no one does, don’t you?”

                She presses her lips together, eyebrows knitting, before she abruptly retracts and opens the door to your car. “Thank for the ride,” is the last thing you hear before Rose slams the door back closed and walks quickly back into her building.

                You pull out and go park in your spot, wandering into your building. The elevator ride seems long, the walk to your room longer, and thank God that Vriska is asleep because you collapse into bed immediately.

                That night, you don’t dream.


	3. From a Cafe to a Bed

“Kanaya, can you stay for a minute?”

                You stop on your way out of the studio and slowly turn to the teacher. Your fellow students have already filed out as soon as the bell rang, leaving you behind with the teacher, Mr. Drew.

                “What do you need?” you ask, turning to face him.

                “The first art show is tonight, as you know, but I wanted to tell you that there will be some scouts visiting.”

                “Scouts?”

                “Representatives from some major companies, coming to see the best artists we have this year.”

                You nod slowly. “And why are you telling me this?”

                “Because, you’re my best fashion student.” Mr. Drew smiles at you slightly as he pulls his laptop out of his bag. “I’ll be directing a few towards you, so I want you to be ready. Dress your best, smile a lot, and be ready to answer a lot of questions.”

                “I- really? Okay, thank you, I’ll do my best, sir,” you say all in a rush, a grin spreading across your face. He nods and waves for you to leave, and you do so with a skip in your step.

* * *

                And now it’s almost 8:30 in the evening and you’re bored out of your mind. The art show was  fun, at first, but now you’re leaning against a wall near one of your dresses modeled on a mannequin, wishing you had a glass of whiskey or something to eat. But instead you have a bottle of water and you’re regretting not eating before you came.

                “Kanaya.”

                You turn before you register who said your name, and immediately roll your eyes and let out a huff of irritation when you find yourself face-to-face with Rose Lalonde.

                “How brilliant, I was just wishing that I’d have my personal space aggressively violated. To what do I owe the pleasure?” You hope the sarcasm wards her off.

                Instead, one corner of her mouth quirks up in a smirk. “My brother has some work featured in this show. Familial obligations dictate I attend.”

                “How noble of you,” you sigh, turning your head back away.

                “Last week, when you bought my coffee. Why did you attempt to speak with me?”

                “Does it matter?” you retort shortly, looking back.

                “It does to me.”

                “I’m touched that you care.”

                “So you’ll tell me?”

                “It may matter to you, but it doesn’t matter to me. You told me to leave you alone, Rose Lalonde, so why do you have trouble returning the favor?”

                That appears to stop her for a moment, so you look away again and take a long gulp of your water.

                “Do you want to go on a date?”

                You choke on your water. “What?”

                “That’s what you want, right? A date?” She’s looking at you, her lavender eyes searching yours.

                “First you don’t want to speak with me. Then you pretty much attack me in my own car, after I gave you a ride home, and now you want to go on a date?” You sigh heavily. “Talk about mixed messages.”

                Rose sighs and leans against the wall next to you. “I’m sorry.”

                “Congradulations.”

                “Look, I’m trying to make amends. Will you just give me a chance?”

                “Like you did?” you snap at her, glaring. “Why do you keep talking to me?”

                She looks at you calmly for a moment before averting her eyes. “I don’t know.”

                You watch her for a moment, then stand up straight. “Tomorrow at seven. There’s a little garden cafe about twenty minutes away from here. I’ll pick you up.”

                You think she smiles as you walk away.

* * *

                You’re late just to piss her off. When you pull up, she’s standing on the sidewalk outside of beta dorm building two with her coat wrapped tightly around her and a glare on her face that could make a flower wilt. You lean across and open the door for her and she gets in hastily, her mouth pressed thin.

                “You’re looking ravishing,” you say casually. She does, though not because she dressed up. Rose donned a slim-fitting camisole under her grey hoodie, along with snug skinny jeans. You went with the shortest shorts you own, along with a thin long-sleeve shirt that hangs off your shoulders and shows off your cleavage.

                She almost blatantly looks up and down your legs and dedicates a moment to your chest before gazing out of the window. “You as well.”

                That’s all the conversation you have on the way. Upon your arrival, you get out quickly and open Rose’s door for her, which earns you a batting of her eyelashes.

                The establishment you selected is a treasure you found on your second day at Skaia. It’s a little cafe, locally owned, surrounded by at least an acre of gardens with every flower you knew- which was a lot. Scattered about the garden are little benches and small gazebos hidden in the foliage, and you find a new hiding place every time you go.

                Rose looks about curiously as you lead her into the building and place your own order, and you even have to say her name for her to notice that it’s her turn. You pay as she selects a table, and wait inside for your drinks to be ready, though Rose nibbles at the muffin she got.

                “How’d you find this place?” she asks, finally keeping her lavender eyes steady on you.

                “I got really stressed about careers and stuff, and ended up in my car trying to run away or something.” You prop your chin up on your palm and meet her gaze evenly. “I got lost and drove past here three times before I stopped to ask for directions.”

                “I wouldn’t have even passed twice. This place is beautiful.” It’s the first time you’ve heard her sound truly genuine, and you smile.

                “I’m glad you like it.” You’re smiling at her and the corner of her lips curls up slightly in response.

                But then your drinks are set before you and her smile is gone along with the moment.

                You lead her out into the gardens, and she stays quiet as she walks ahead of you. Within moments, it’s her leading you, and you find yourself smiling dumbly at the back of her blonde head before you remember how you met her and you swallow your giddiness.

                There’s not much talking as she wanders along the paths with you in tow, occasionally stopping to ask for the names of flowers or butterflies or birds. You notice how different she is now, and wonder if it’s the coffee or the cafe or something else entirely. Either way, Rose Lalonde has worn down to softer edges, though her walls are still up high.

                Minutes wear into an hour, which edges towards a second. Finally, Rose slowly sits down on a bench, and you take a seat next to her. “This place is so beautiful,” she says softly, looking up at the sky, which is colored with the purples and pinks of sunset.

                “I’m glad you like it,” you say, watching her as she turns and meets your eyes.

                “I’ll be honest, Kanaya… I expected you to take me to some shitty restaurant, make some awkward small talk, take me home within the hour… I didn’t expect anything so amazing.” Her purple eyes gaze at you so calmly despite her words, it takes you a moment to answer.

                “Well, I suppose I should be insulted, but I’m just glad you like it here. I haven’t really told anyone about it.” You shrug awkwardly and look forward at the flowers.

                “Why not?”

                “I tried to tell one person- my roommate. She laughed at me.”

                “What a bitch.”

                “She’s okay.”

                “She sounds like a bitch.”

                You crack a smile. “Alright then.”

                “Kanaya.” You look at her, raising an eyebrow at the intensity of her voice and stare. “Thank you, for this.”

                Heat fills your cheeks and you can only duck your head and look away. “You’re welcome. Though we should head back to campus.”

                The walk back is quiet once again, which you are thankful for. The barista gives you a knowing look as you leave, and you offer a little wave to her before the door closes behind you. After you get in the car, you reach for the radio, but Rose stops you.

                “I want to talk to you on the way home, instead.”

                “Okay,” you say, and then you focus on pulling out of the parking lot.

                “I didn’t give you a chance when we first met, or, really, any time after,” she continues. “You said that I don’t give people a chance to know me, and you’re right. I’m not saying that I’m rectifying that, but… I guess I am curious about you.” When you’re silent, she offers up, “Where are you from?”

                “The middle of the Arizona desert,” you answer. “In a town where every house was surrounded by at least an acre of land, so either you owned a bicycle, or you didn’t have any friends.”

                “Did you own a bicycle?”

                You smile and shrug, knowing she’d see that the answer was an awkward ‘no.’

                “What’s your favorite color?”

                “Red.”

                “Flower?”

                “Snapdragons.”

                “Era?”

                “Victorian.”

                “Novel genre?”

                “Trashy vampire romance.”

                “You’re joking.”

                “Am I?”

                She stares at you, her eyes squinting, and when she huffs unhappily you smirk. She has no clue if you’re joking. (You aren’t.)

                “You’re insufferable,” she mutters, and you cough out a burst of laughter.

                “Really? _I’m_ insufferable? Me?”

                “Oh, shut up,” Rose says with a chuckle.

                Too soon, you’re parked in front of beta dorm building 2, and Rose is giving you a long heavy look that unnerves you.

                “Aren’t you going to walk me to my room?” she asks.

                “Oh, yeah,” you stammer slightly, unbuckling hastily and climbing out of your car. She laughs again and as soon as she steps onto the sidewalk, she wraps her arms around one of yours.

                “You’re _such_ a gentleman,” she drawls, looking up at you with sarcastic moony eyes.

                “Well thank you ma’am,” you reply, letting your natural Southern accent show through as you open the building door for Rose.

                “I’m swooning, you just can’t tell.” She leads you down a hall.

                “If you faint, I shall catch you, m’lady.”

                “With your dainty seamstress arms?”

                “With my strong gardening arms. I’ve spent many hot days wielding a chainsaw to trim the bushes.”

                “I can’t picture you with a chainsaw.” She stops in front of a room and takes out her keys.

                “Shame. I’ve been told it makes me look deliciously dangerous.” You’re proud of yourself for keeping a straight face, even when she stares at you. You know that look though, and you know you’re giving it back, that look right before two people-

                Her lips hardly touch yours for a moment, then your hands tangle in her hair at the nape of her neck and you hunch over enough to kiss her deeply and fully. You’re aware that Rose opened the door, though, because she’s pushing you backwards into her room and she kicks the door shut behind her and throws her arms around your neck.

                “Rose,” you try to say, but she pulls away long enough to give you a look- _Do you want this or not?_ \- and you just kiss her again and wrap your arms around her body to lift her up slightly. Her legs lift up and your falling- for a brief moment you panic, but there’s the bed behind you, which reminds you-

                “I don’t have a roommate,” she says, before you can ask, pulling away to look at you with slightly tousled hair and foreign lavender eyes.

                “Do you really want to-”

                “Have sex with you? Yes. Unless you’re not okay with it.

                “I am, very much, just, this isn’t a normal thing for me,” you muster out.

                “Same” is the only word she mutters before kissing your neck, your jaw, and you let your hands slide down to her behind and squeeze. You’re surprised to hear a little gasp, but then you flip the two of you over.

                “Rose.”

                “What?” Now she sounds irritated. She’s under you, legs loosely around your hips, chest rising and falling quickly and she’s so damn beautiful.

                “I’m serious, I- Not since high school, I don’t-” You blush harder the more you stammer, trying to get her to understand that really, you don’t usually get in someone’s pants on the first date, and this is actually really weird for you-

                “Kanaya,” she sighs, folding her hands around the back of your neck. “ _I know_. But please, stop talking and fuck me like I know you want to.” The curse is attractive falling from her lips.

                Now you kiss her again, running your tongue over her lips, pressing your hips downward and grinding against her. Your fingers are pushing her shirt up and over her head, and it gets flung somewhere behind you. Her shoulders and chest have light little freckles on them, but you only acknowledge them for a moment before kissing her jaw, and neck, and chest, shoving her bra up and out of the way so you can kiss down between her breasts.

                She abruptly pushes you away and sits up to pull her bra off, and your eyes are immediately stuck to her chest. They’re smaller than yours, but you bet they’d fit perfectly in your hands… You don’t get to test this theory just yet, though, because she gets a grip on the wide collar of your shirt and yanks it down along with your brassier in one movement, leaving it bunched around your waist.

                Her teeth biting gently at your collarbone makes you let out an embarrassing little moan, and you actually hear her laugh at you before she gets one breast in her mouth and plays with your nipple with her teeth. Quickly, your fingers are in her hair, pulling her closer as you arch your back and her arms slip around you, pulling you in to straddle her lap.

                When another one of your moans makes her laugh, again, you push her by the shoulders back down and put both your hands on her breasts and massage gently, flicking a thumb over one nipple and then pinching the other. Rose only releases little hisses and gasps at your touch. Frowning slightly, you scoot off of her and the bed to grab her jeans’ waistband and pull then down, along with her underwear, to her ankles.

You also take the opportunity to fully remove your shirt and bra. She kicks her clothing off as you climb back on, your eyes locking on her trimmed pubic region for a moment before lifting to match her gaze. Suddenly you’re actually glad for that awkward one night stand with a certain Serket in high school, because you know exactly what you’re doing when you circle one finger around her clit before sliding it in her, watching Rose sharply inhale before ducking down to encircle one nipple with your mouth.

                You start thrusting it, gently, using each push in to search around for one spot that feels a little different. It takes a few tries, but then, there it is, and you push and finally get a real moan out of Rose. You smile into her skin, make sure you kiss and suck all around her chest, and then carefully introduce a second finger, pressing against her clitoris with your palm. After giving her a moment to adjust completely, you start thrusting quickly, curling your fingers when you’re all the way in to hit that extra sensitive spot.

                Her hips rise to meet your fingers, and when she finally comes, long enough later that her chest is well covered with bite marks and hickeys, it’s with a moan, a curse, and half of your name. You watch her face as she climaxes, watch her nose scrunch up and her eyes squeeze closed, and when she’s done you kiss her slowly and fully.

Her hands, which had gripped the blanket, hold your cheeks and then she rolls you over onto your back and kisses down, back across your jaw and neck and chest. She nips each breast before continuing and your breathing has become ragged little gasps. You feel her nails scrape your hips before Rose pulls your shorts down, and she kisses you through your underwear before they’re also pushed down to your ankles.

                A jolt goes through you when her tongue runs up through your folds and one of your hands immediately goes down to run through her hair. She goes slow, teasing, before abruptly picking up the pace. Her tongue moves much more quickly than you thought possible, and then she moves up to use it to flick your clit and you let out a long, loud moan as two of her fingers push into you and start thrusting deftly.

She unwinds you too easily, and it feels like forever until you hit the edge. You’re breathing hard, letting out moans in the shape of “Rose,” when she runs her teeth over you and you come with a jolt rocketing up your spine.

                “Fuck,” is the first word that falls from your lips, “wow” is the second, and you hear her laugh as she pulls the covers over the both of you and curls up against your side with her cheek on your shoulder.

                “You are an exceptional woman, Kanaya,” she murmurs into your tanned skin, her eyelashes tickling at your neck.

                “You’re beautiful,” you say, like it’s a realization instead of a blinding fact.

                She shifts to sit up enough to look at you for a moment, and then she kisses you, carefully and gently. You feel uncertainty in that kiss, but then she kisses your cheek and lays down back next to you.

* * *

 

                The thought occurs to you, right before you fall asleep, to turn off the lights, but then you realize you never even turned the lights on, and that there’s so much light because Rose Lalonde has little glow in the dark stars all over her ceiling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter got long fast. do you know how hard it is to write smut when you hate the word 'nipple'?
> 
> Anyways, this is the first Rosemary sex scene I've written to criticism is very much wanted, considering another one of my fics in inching toward the sex chapter as well
> 
> next week: angst. holla.


	4. Holes

                You awake to a cold bed and the soft ticking of a clock.

                Sitting up quickly, you look around to empty dorm room, staring in confusion before it registers that Rose is gone. She left you without waking you up and according to the clock, it was nearly noon.

                A yellow note taped to the door catches your eye and you scoot to the edge of the bed and stand up, wrapping the blanket around your naked body. You approach the note, expecting an explanation, a signature with a heart at the end, something, but not:

                “Lock the door when you leave.”

                Suddenly, you feel used.

* * *

You leave Rose’s dorm room as fast as you can, because smelling her and seeing the damned yellow note makes you feel sick, and you just want to get out before you throw up. In your haste, you depart without your underwear because you couldn’t find them fast enough, so you walk quickly down the hall with your jeans rubbing uncomfortably against you.

                Once you get inside your own building, you think you’re safe. You lean against the wall of the elevator and close your eyes for a moment, but then you step onto your floor, and you pass someone who must have seen your wrinkles clothing and paired it with the smell of sex and sweat and he laughs at you.

                “Slut,” he scoffs, and the word is a harsh punch in the chest. “Wanna fuck someone else on the way home?” He slaps your ass, and you flinch and actually raise your eyes to look at him.

                Eridan blanches when he sees you face. “Shit, Kanaya, I’m so sorry- Fuck- Kanaya, wait!”

                You turn away from him and trip on your heels before you wrench your dorm room door open, get inside, and slam it behind you. Then you stumble to the bathroom, fall onto the floor, and dry heave into the toilet. _Can pure shame make someone actually sick?_ you wonder and you spit out the little bit of acid that came up.

                “Kanaya? Are you alright?”

                Is everyone skipping today?

                “It’s Saturday.”

                Shit, you said that aloud. “I’m fine,” you mutter, getting back to your feet. “Just hungry.”

                Vriska watches you, then rummages around her bed before finding a bag of potato chips and tossing it to you. “Was that Eridan I heard wailing in the hall?”

                “Probably.” You sit down on your bed and cover up with the sheet before shimmying your shorts off and grabbing a clean pair of underwear.

                “You slept with that Lalonde girl, didn’t you?” she says, but it’s not accusational. For once, Vriska is asking you a simple, innocent question. You just nod. “Did he say something?” Another nod. “That fishy _asshole_!”

                With a shrug, you open the chip bag and start munching.

                “I’m calling Porrim.”

                “That’s unnecessary,” you say quickly. Your sister is a force to be reckoned with.

                But Vriska’s already on the phone.

* * *

A few hours later, Eridan is in front of you with a bloody nose saying “I’m sorry, Kan,” and Meenah winks at you before she drags him away again.

                “What a douche,” Porrim snorts. “You okay, hun?” She turns to you.

                “I’m fine, Porrim,” you sigh. “That really wasn’t necessary.”

                “Of course it was. He’s a misogynist pig.” Porrim breezes into your dorm room and sits on your bed. “Now, tell me everything.”

                It’s not like you could keep things from your sister. You tell her everything, from how you met Rose to the date, skirting around anything specific about the sex, and then recounting the walk home.

                “Holy shit, you fucked a stripper,” was Vriska’s response. She sounds impressed.

                Porrim just nods in the wise way she does. “I see. Has she contacted you?”

                “For fuck’s sake, it happened _last night_. Give her time!” They both look surprised when you curse.

                “Give her time?” Vriska laughs. “Look, Kanaya, there are girls who like to have sex, and then there are girls who use people for sex. They’re called whores. Rose Lalonde is a whore.”

                “Now, Vriska,” Porrim starts in a motherly tone.

                “Will both of you shut up?”

                They fall silent at the cold chill of your voice.

                “This is _my_ problem, _my_ mess. I’ll deal with it. Stay out of it.”

                You leave.

* * *

The evening is chilly, you’re only in shorts and a tank top, and you start to cry. You end up under a tree in the courtyard, shivering and sobbing into the crook of your elbow.

                “Need a tissue?”

                “Oh, God, not you,” you groan, sniffling and rubbing your eyes before looking up at Rose.

                “Nice to see you too.” She takes off her coat and puts it around your shoulders. “Why are you here, crying under a tree?”

                “I got stressed.”

                “Last time you got stressed you found that amazing café. Seems like you’re going downhill.”

                “Seems like it,” you murmur, tugging her jacket snug around you but refusing to look at her because you still have tears on your face.

                “So why are you crying under a tree?” Her gaze is intent upon you.

                “Why’d you leave a shitty note?” you spit back, your voice cracking, looking up at her, hoping, searching, for anything, just a shred of clarity.

                She doesn’t say anything for a moment, looking at you and then at the ground. Then Rose says, “I’m sorry, Kanaya. You can keep the coat.” Then she leaves.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am literally incapable of writing anything happy ever sorry
> 
> it's short because reasons
> 
> also, let this story be evidence that I know Vriska can be lice and I do love her... she's just soooo easy to write up as a mega douche.


	5. Caring vs Apathy, plus Karkat

Monday evening, when you finally check your phone since early Friday afternoon, you’re blown away by the sheer amount of messages people have left you. Karkat’s go from “HEY” to “ANSWER ME NOW YOU FUCKING SHITHEAD,” and are accompanied by two voicemails, while Porrim has left little concerned questions about your well-being.

                You listen to Karkat’s voicemail from Saturday morning: “Hey, I was wondering how the date went and shit, but you haven’t fucking answered my texts even though you’re always up by now so I guess Spiderbitch dragged you off… call me back soon, alright?”

                The second, from this afternoon: “Porrim told Kankri who told me that you are, in fact, not dead, just suffering from post-fucking depression or some shit, which is why I haven’t called the cops looking for your miserable ass. Call me before Monday night or I’m kicking your fucking door down.”

                Chuckling at his concern is all you muster to do, but then you notice one more voicemail from an unknown number, from shortly after Karkat’s last message, at 4:45 yesterday. You tentatively open and listen to it.

                “Hey, Kanaya… it’s Rose. I got your number from Aradia, this is my cell phone. I just… I really fucked up, with you. And- shit, I’m actually kind of drunk right now- couldn’t really work up the guts to talk to you otherwise? Sorry- for the slur and shit, though, I wanna apologize for my other dick moves face to face. Which is why I called. We gotta talk, I just… really wanna try to explain shit to you. I know I left a shitty note and I’m kinda shitty too, like to be honest, and you deserve to know and I want you to kno-”

The voicemail ends, cutting her off. You want to yell when you realize it’s because she exceeded the time limit. You quickly add her number to your contacts and then take a deep breath. To call or text or do nothing at all…?

                You call Karkat.

                “Holy fucking shit it’s about time you called me back!” he yells after answering on the first ring.

                “Sorry, I was busy.”

                “Busy being a sad little sloth? I know. Turns out that fuckface of a Serket is actually useful for keeping up on you.”

                “I’m glad she was of service.”

                “I’m not thinking she was an exactly reliable source per se because she claims some bitch-ass slut seduced you and then knocked you out in the courtyard.”

                “Oh gosh- _I fell asleep_. She didn’t knock me out.”

                “So what about the whore banging?”

                “I went on a date with a girl, ended up spending the night with her-”

                “Like painting nails and shit or committing a heinous act of gay?”

                “We, as Nepeta would say, ‘did the furrick.’ But Rose isn’t a slut. Or a whore. So don’t call her that.”

                “Hey, I didn’t think she was, I was direct quoting. Want me to cite my fucking resources?”

                “Another time. In MLA format.”

                “I’ll get right fucking to that. Why’d you pass out in treeville?”

                “I was tired.”

                “Whatever- hey, I have to go, actually, Terezi just knocked- and now she’s in my house-”

                “Hi Kanaya!”

                “Hey Terezi. I’ll talk to you tomorrow, Karkat.”

                “Yeah, bye.”

                You hang up the phone with a long sigh. The only person left to catch up with is Rose, since Porrim stopped by uninvited earlier, but you don’t want to call her. Not yet.

                But life has other plans, as evidenced by a knock on the door.

                “One moment!” You look at yourself. You’ve been moping around in a long, baggy gray wool sweater that was a gift from Karkat, and after a moment of deliberation, you decide that it’s decent enough to answer the door in. You get out of bed and open the door.

                “Hi, Kanaya,” Rose says with half of a smile.

                Honestly, your first thought is that she looks like shit. There’s bags under her eyes, which are as sad as the night you first saw her but in so many different ways. There’s a hunch to her shoulders under her loose hoodie that strips her of the confidence she had before and makes you feel a little guilty.

                “Hi Rose,” you say, wavering slightly.

                There’s a tense pause, before Rose speaks again. “Did you get my voicemail?”

                “Yeah. Just a few minutes ago, actually.” She nods absently, and then you open the door a little wider. “Do you wanna come in?”

                “Please,” she answers immediately, sounding relieved. When you allow, she walks past you into your dorm and you close the door. “So I have a lot to say, and if I stop now I’ll lose all my confidence, so is it okay if I just get it all out?”

                You nod slowly. It’s not like you could talk past the lump in your throat anyways.

                “First off, I wanna say sorry. Specifically for that one shitty note. I’ve written three whole novels and the best bullshit line I managed to spout out was an order to lock the door. And that was fucked up. But the point is, I didn’t know what to say. I’ve always known what to say, how to say it, and you keep tripping me up.

“And when we first met, and then when you gave me a ride home, and even at the start of our date, you didn’t trip me up. Because I didn’t know you. I didn’t care. And then I cared, and then I- I led you to my bed, and cared so much more, and caring is really hard for me. Because caring- caring hurts. If I care, I get hurt. But there I was caring about you and I tried to say fuck it, I tried to back out, because apathy and passive aggressive bull-fucking-shit is all I can really do.”

She pauses because her breathing is fast and her voice is shaking, her eyes and nose turning a little red. “And then, I saw you under that tree, and I just wanted to prove to myself that I could not care about you. That you were a fuck. But you looked up at me and you were crying and looking at me like you did at the café, like you did we were together and you were on me, like how I looked at you before I fell asleep, and I realized that no matter how much I didn’t care, you did. You cared, you wanted to know me, actual me, from the very start, and you still did even though I hurt you so bad, and I ran away.”

                Another pause, with a deep, wavering breath, as Rose tries to compose herself. “But I’m tired of getting drunk every other night and drowning myself in apathy. I want to feel everything I can for you. So, Kanaya Maryam, I’m asking for forgiveness, and if you’re willing, a second chance.”

                You open your mouth to say something, then close it, then open it again. Rose’s gaze keeps bouncing around the room between gazes at you, and then you stand and her lavender eyes stay on you. Two small steps puts you in front of her.

                When you kiss her, she tastes like she did when you were outside your dormroom. And you know that you would make that awkward walk from Beta Dorm Building 2 Room 104 to your own dorm any day because damn it, you have fallen so ridiculously hard for Rose Lalonde.

                You know she’s fallen for you by the way she kisses you back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> by the time i finished writing Rose's monologue i had tears down my face because emotion damn it
> 
> idk i think it's the most raw emotional thing i've written???


	6. Epilogue/One, Two, Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> or, I wanted one last sex scene

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> un beta'd

                Vriska’s first reaction, when she walks into the dorm to see you only semi-conscious on your bed and Rose Lalonde flopped on top of you, is to grab her lamp and attempt to bushwack Rose with it. You don’t really know exactly what she was thinking, but you figure it wasn’t _“Oh look they cried a lot together and then lovingly cuddled,”_ and the fact that you still didn’t actually have pants on over your boyshort underwear probably didn’t help.

                “Get off of her you bitch!” Vriska yells, attempting to hit Rose, but the blonde quickly rolls off to the side and the lamp instead hits you in the stomach.

                “Oh fuck me,” you wheeze, while Rose scrabbles off your bed. When Vriska raises the lamp for another swing, you sit up and start to stand. “Vriska, stop!”

                “What the hell are you doing here?” Vriska snarls, lamp still bared.

                “That’s between Kanaya and I,” Rose snaps back.

                “ _Vriska_ , put down the damn lamp!” you say shrilly, and she finally drops her arm and lets the lamp clatter to the floor, fixing you with an angry stare.

                “Why is she here?”

                “Rose and I were working things out,” you explain in your calmest tone. “It’s all okay now.”

                “All okay?” Vriska repeats with another flash of anger. She points an accusational finger at Rose. “This whore _seduced_ you, ripped your fucking heart out, and then left you crying in the middle of the night like a _skanky little bitch_! How is any of that _okay_?”

                “Okay, for one, you’re exaggerating a little bit. Two, I told you several times to not call her a whore. Three, unlike you, I am not an insolent child who refuses to talk about how she feels. Which means I can reestablish relationships like an adult.”

                “Fuck you, Maryam!”

                You roll your eyes. “Vriska, please just sit on your bed and count to twenty.”

                Vriska glares at you for another moment, then huffs and stalks to her bed and slithers underneath the covers. A moment later, her head reappears to watch to unhappily.

                “Rose, are you okay?”

                She nods tensely.

                You take a deep breath. “Alright. Vriska, stay. Rose, how about we take a walk?”

                Five awkward minutes and the addition of a pair of pants later, you’re walking out of your dorm building into the crisp air.

                “That was a terrible experience,” Rose says calmly.

                “Sorry about her. She means well.”

                “Is that the reaction I should expect from all of your friends, when they find out about… us?”

                “Maybe.” You pause for a moment, before adding, “But I don’t really know what ‘us’ means. We didn’t exactly discuss where we are now.”

                Rose takes a sharp breath. “I suppose that’s up to you. I’m in no position to make that choice.”

                You stop on the sidewalk, and Rose pauses in front of you, her eyes curious. “Are you really about to make me ask you to be my girlfriend?”

                “You’re right,” Rose relents. “Let’s skip the awkward. We both know it’s a yes.”

                With a chuckle, you resume walking, catching Rose’s hand as you do so. She smiles and even blushes a little, and then you wander around campus holding your girlfriend’s hand.

* * *

Porrim’s reaction, two days later, when you introduce Rose as your girlfriend to her and Aranea, is to purse her lips for a moment before extending a hand to Rose for her to shake, and when Rose takes it, she says in the sweetest voice she has, “If you make my sister cry like that again, I will beat the living shit out of you with my brass knuckles on. I love your eyes, too, they’re so pretty.

                You blanch for a moment before Rose calmly replies, “I have two knitting needles I turned into shivs that you can use as well, if you would like. Odd eyes run in the family; my brother’s are red.”

                “Oh, is he albino?” Aranea asks curiously.

                “Yes. I have slight albinism, which is why mine are odd as well. They should be blue, but the coloring is translucent, letting the red muscles tissue show through and creating the appearance of purple.”

                “That’s fascinating!”

                “Pink and orange eyes have also made appearances in my family.”

                “Aranea, do you have the notes from class today?” you ask quickly, before Aranea can ask even more questions. You already have the notes, but you don’t want to stand around in the lobby any longer than you have to, and Aranea could talk for hours.

                “Of course. They’re on my tablet, though, I’ll have to email them to you. Did you sleep through class? You usually always take notes.”

                “Thank you, and now Rose and I should really get going,” you say quickly, grabbing Rose’s hand and pulling her away.

                “Bye!” Aranea calls, while Porrim just gives a quick wave.

                “Where are we going?” Rose asks as you lead her down the hall of your dorm building.

                “My room.”

                “Will Vriska attempt to beat me again?”

                “Vriska shouldn’t be home.”

                “Huh.”

                You turn and look at Rose, raising an eyebrow at her noise of realization, but she just smirks at you. Beautiful women will be the death of you, Kanaya Maryam.

                When you step into the elevator, she leans against you and slides her hand into your back pocket. She trails behind you when you walk down the hall towards you dormroom, and when you step inside you hear her close the door and lock it.

                “Rose?” you question, turning to her again, and she just saunters up to you and puts her fingers in your pockets, pulling you closer so your body is pressed against hers. “I am mildly concerned and mostly suspicious.”

                “Calm down, Kanaya,” Rose says with another slow smile and she maneuvers you so she can pull you forwards as she’s stepping backwards and then sitting on your bed.

                “Rose, what are you trying to do?”

                “Why won’t you just go along with it?”

                “Because I don’t understand what’s happening or why your hands are in my pockets. Are you searching for something?”

                “Are you seriously confused right now?”

                “Yes. Should I not be?”

                “Kanaya, I’m trying to seduce you.”

                “What- Oh.” You pause, then smile when you realize, “That’s why you took interest in the fact that Vriska wouldn’t be home.”

                “Exactly.” She gives you a hard tug on your jean pockets and you easily lose your balance and fall on top of her in the most ungraceful way possible. You feel your shoulder jab her in the nose and her knee hits you in the hip painfully, and you quickly start mustering “Shit sorry are you okay?”

                “I’ll be fine,” she laughs, rubbing her nose as you push yourself up to be on your hands and knees above her. Then she smiles at you and puts a hand on the back of your neck to pull you down for a kiss. You lean in happily, and run your tongue across her lips and she lets you in without tease. Her tongue is soft and quick as always, and it draws a moan out of you.

                “Are you always so… vocal?” Rose murmurs into your lips.

                “Shut up,” you mutter, kissing her again before leaving little pecks across her cheek and down her neck.

                “Rude,” is her retort, but it’s half a gasp.

                You pull away and look at her for a moment. “This is the first time we’ve done this, since…”

                “…since the first time we did this?” Rose finishes, smiling- not smirking, you note.

                “I need to know something, before we do… whatever you want to call it.” You pause, and Rose nods for you to continue. “Before I fell asleep, when I was laying in your bed. You kissed me, like you were looking for something.”

                She nods. “I did.”

                “Did you find it?”

                “…yes, I believe so.”

                “Okay.”

                Then you kiss her, hard, and lift your hands up to her breasts, and she mutters something sarcastic, which you pointedly ignore. This time, you know what she likes, and when you kiss her behind her ear and melt it into a suck, she moans lightly.

                “Are you always so vocal?” you tease into her skin, and she huffs indignantly. You slide her hands down to the hem of her shirt so you can push it up, and Rose assists in its removal, and takes the opportunity to get her bra out of the way as well. You’re not complaining.

                You scatter nips and kisses across her freckled chest, before running your tongue over one of her nipples. She writhes a little, but you place a hand on her hips to try to steady her as you take one nipple into your mouth and give it a long suck.

                “Fuck, Kanaya,” she groans, before pushing her hands against your shoulders and flipping your positions, kissing you fully. She doesn’t wait for permission to slide her tongue into your mouth, and she grinds down hard against your thigh, rubbing against you almost desperately. You’re actually proud of how needy you’ve made her.

                “Rose,” you whisper in her ear when she trails her kisses off to one side.

                “Stop talking, Kanaya,” she mumbles, tugging at a few strands of your hair.

                “Make me.”

                She pulls away to look at you, and the glint in her eye suddenly makes you wonder if issuing that challenge was really a great idea.

                You find out a moment later, when she ruts her knee against your crotch and grabs roughly at your breasts. Just when you think that’s the best she’s got, she’s shoving your sweater up under your armpits and detaching the clasp in the front of your bra, and then you’re reminded of how fast her tongue is when it flicks at your nipple. While that act itself isn’t all that pleasurable, it leaves you needing more, and being denied it when she switches to your other breast and sucks at it.

                “I think I’m going to need you to get to the point here soon,” you gasp as one of her hands goes into your pants but over your boyshort underwear and starts rubbing, but carefully avoiding your clitoris. She chuckles and then moves off of you enough to pull your pants and underwear down to your knees before going right back to biting at one of your breasts.

                Her hand only rubs against your sex for a moment, before she slides a finger into you. She thrusts a few times before deciding one finger isn’t enough and adds a second, and then her movements become harder and deeper and you can’t hold back any moans. You think you hear her mutter something like “practically dripping” but then she finds that _spot_ , that perfect spot inside you and you arch your back and claw at the sheets and her back.

                Rose moves back up to your neck, peppering kisses across your chest before attacking just above your collarbone. You vaguely wonder if you should wear a turtleneck or a scarf tomorrow, but then she gives a nipple a little pinch and hits that spot again and you stop thinking.

                Then you notice that she’s still rubbing against your thigh, through her ministrations, and you raise one unsteady hand and manage to worm it into her pants. She gasps, probably from the chill of your fingers, and you don’t bother teasing her before sliding in. The hand that just tweaked at your breast roams down your side to unbutton and unzip her ants so you can get deeper, and Rose leans in to press her bare chest against yours, her breath becoming shaky.

                By the time you’re driven to orgasm, she’s got welts growing on her back from your nails and you’ve got hickeys showing harshly against you skin. She kisses you as you come, making you moan into her lips and accidentally bite her lip. It’s not too much longer until you draw an orgasm out of her as well, and you’re proud of how quickly you managed to do it.

                Drowsily, you wiggle off your pants and work Rose’s off as well, so you can position her in your bed more comfortably. As you tug the covers over your bodies, Rose plants lazy kisses across your skin and wraps an arm around you.

                “You’re great,” she mutters, though her words are muffled due to her face being buried in your neck.

                “At sex?”

                “No. I mean, yeah, but as a person, you’re amazing.”

                “Thanks Rose.”

                “I don’t love you.”

                “…okay?”

                “But I think it’s a matter of time.”

                “It’s easy to say that, after sex.”

                “I’ve been thinking about it before that.”

                You chuckle slightly.

                “I almost love you too, Rose.”

                It’s almost three in the afternoon but you fall asleep soundly.


End file.
